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The poster pretty much sums it up – and somewhat explains the last few months. I shall try to remember this in the months ahead.

The Farm & I are wrapping up the worst of the Tax Season, however there are piles and piles of things left to do. Of course, this means there are piles and piles of things at the barn and in life in general, that must be dealt with and *cleaned up*. For those not familiar with the way that tax and accounting goes these days, there is no clear season anymore. It lumbers throughout the entire year creating hysteria and angst, like a Faery Godmother gone bad. Instead of spreading anything of happiness and joy, we have panic and depression, courtesy of the powers that be.

Pumpkin – the latest in feral male cats – has now been hanging around long enough that he has decided he would like a full-time gig here with me. He can still terrorize the other cats and devil the dogs (the ones that give a flip) and he doesn’t need to starve or go looking for a dry place to hang his hat. Pumpkin arrived at Halloween, however he is a beautiful glossy black with white patch on his chest. He is glossy due to the copious amounts of canned cat food he would like me to feed him daily. He will be off to the vets soon to become a non-reproductive member of cat society. Like I said, he’s decided his new motto is Mi casa is HIS casa.

With any luck at all (?), I may actually take some pictures of the newest Rehome Midwest surrenders. A cute little filly and colt (both about a year old) AQHA registered and cute, cute, cute.

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Wow – what wild and wacky past months. Actually, it’s been months and months and months since The Farm & I have checked in with the cyber community. Let’s just say, it’s been a brutal time in regards to the health of several of The Farm’s inhabitants. And to be perfectly honest, losing so many in such a short time has been a touch difficult for the Chief Mucker, as well. What I try to remember (especially when well-meaning people ask me what’s going on at my place) is that I generally take on the sick, injured or unsound. With that in mind, it is no wonder that there are occasional runs of illness and death. But Jeez. Enough already.

Well all of us here at The Farm are about to embarq upon new adventures and directions. The horses are simply happy that the 20 hour days for taxes are over. Now it’s just 12. But they are receiving more attention and more cookies, so all is good. The dogs are thrilled that they get to play abit more and I am not shushing them because their barking and playing is distracting or bothering visitors. I am happy to just be thinking about going to sleep.

Sometimes the simple things are indeed the best.

So off we all go, deciding to not stay where we have been.
And I am absolutely looking forward to the new, fun things that have been woefully missing from life.

Wow – you know how some weeks and months can just be, well……challenging?? Right, smack in the middle of it here!
Without elaborating at this time, I lost my beloved german shepherd Trey on 6/25 and then on 6/27, the old farm dog Stripey – who adored Trey almost as much as I did, simply could not go on without him. Lovely pictures and memorials will come another day, when I don’t burst into tears and sob when I look at their pics.

I have returned to riding. I am looking for my Bravado – which was apparently scooped up with the other garbage in the arena when I crashed into the wall last October. I scrape up bits and pieces of it everytime I ride and challenge my horse – thereby challenging myself. Well I’m into working gaits now and thinking about lateral work and totally concentrated on the riding and not the memories. Yippee!!

Hope everyone’s Holiday was a happy one. Mine was filled with farm, fun and family – which are all not necessarily the same thing. All farm owners out there – what is it with people who *just want to drop by for a minute* that they don’t understand – NO – because it requires copious amounts for work to just prepare for the city peoples drop-by??????.

This weekend began the Canadian Geese Flying Lessons for the 7 babies. Yep, 7 babies. They are now old enough that we dare to count them. At a younger age, they can become dinner for the wide variety of wildlife around here, so you absolutely NEVER count the chicks until they get abit larger.

Well, flying lessons are in session. The mom and dad lead the group and all 9 of them flap and flap the wings and illustate the wind gathering methods that must be used and exercised to get the bulk off the ground. No take offs yet – accidental or planned, but I feel certain that day must be coming soon.

Their efforts reminded me of my own. How many times have I flapped and flapped in an effort to get something off the ground??? How many times did I simply need to wait until another day, or just turn around and catch the breeze coming from behind me. Ah well, I hope they are successful in their venture.

The dogs also remind me that Acting like a Fool does have some merit. It truly can amuse yourself and it really doesn’t matter if anyone else thinks you are a Fool or not. The neigh sayers won’t be around in a 12 months period REGARDLESS of what you do to please them.

So, my lessons for the weekend were taught by the animals. Flap those wings like crazy, play in the water or hose until you look like crap but you have a wonderful time, and pay no attention to humans, because the majority of them are unmedicated ADHD patients.

Ok – so I am teasing – some. It really isn’t quite as cold as this January photo of my garden would make you believe. However, after 6 full months of cold weather, it hasn’t been looking all that warm to me. Last week we had two days of nearly 90 and now – for 5 days – we are barely able to creep out of the 50’s and the nites——-the nites are low 40’s and high 30’s.

Now, I’m not saying I had anything to do with the frigid temps, but perhaps my deciding to plant VEGGIES and HERBS this year, knocked Mother Nature on her pattuttee and the results are these temps. I have been covering the offending produce and they actually look quite nice. In fact, I have been harvesting lettuce of various varieties and loving all the fresh stuff (thanks Michelle for starting the seeds!!!!!)

And if anyone is interested, I have been deligently working on updating the website for the rescue organization. Please take a look at the newer versions of

www.rehomemidwest.org

During the tax season, which appears to be as long as the winter season…., nothing got done that helped Rehome be more organized. Now that I have more than 5 hours of sleep under my belt, I am trying to remedy that situation.

All the critters are doing nicely, with the possible exception of Laurenzo = who hates this weather as much as I do. No wonder I love that boy so much!
Guess it has something to do with the arthritis that both he and I share.

I used to wear black. It was my favorite color. So stylish. Very chic. Went anywhere and went with anything and any occasion.

I used to dine out often. At stylish restaurants. Country Clubs. Private parties. Stay out late. Attend a new opening.

I used to vacation. Lovely, far away places that were warm, with sand beaches. And lovely, ice cold drinks – not with little umbrellas. Those are for whimps. My icy cold drinks need many cubes because the Irish Whiskey melted them promptly.

I used to own stylish cars. Sedans that gleamed. Sports cars that moved at lusty speeds. Bright colors. And I also bought cars – in Black – how daring. Shiny, clean, sparkling interiors that smelled ever so slightly of light powder or citrus.

Not now. Now anymore.

I have a farm. And animals. Oh my gawd, do I have animals. And a farm, that comes complete with leaves, dust, dirt and just plain crap. Yes, Crap. Poop. Manure. Compost. Whatever you want to call it – but it’s a compete picture. The life cycle of the creatures, the supplies and food products that keep them going.

My clothes are now all neutral color. My carpets and/or tile floors are all taupe (which translates to = DIRT color). My car and truck might be considered a minor agricultural project, because I cannot be sure exactly WHAT that smell could be. And what IS that in the corner.

My vacations are the few times a week that someone comes to help with the night chores. My social moments now consist of a quick dinner with a friend who understands about the stray hairs of unknown origin on my *taupe* clothing. Or the ‘Eau d’Pony’ that may waft into the room with me……… Or the straggling piece of hair that seems to escape from my clip I had thought anchored it out of the way.

I do still indulge in the Irish Whiskey. Late at nite when the only sounds are the wildlife. The night birds. The coyote packs – tracking and hunting thru the woods. The crashing sounds of the prey trying to escape it’s predator. When the horses are munching, or sighing and – yes – snoring. When the dogs are chasing their buddies in their sleep and their legs are moving a million miles an hour while they sleep, drooling on the floor.

That’s when I stare at the sky and talk with the moon and stars. Yeah, I can actually see them out here. Then I go back to my bed and try to move the fat dog over so I can find my spot on the edge.

I used to wear black.

I really don’t miss it, at all.